I Wanna Wake Up Where You Are
by Rochellena
Summary: Three times Blair fell asleep at the loft and one time she didn't.


Here we are again. Every time I am convinced I'll never write again, a little fic bug comes over and tickles me. So, here it is. It's super cheesy and completely cliched...basically like everything I write. I just have spent the last few days laughing at the ridiculousness of the finale, and somewhere along the way, I decided I need to write something super cheesy and fluffy. So, here you go.

Background: Yeah, I decided to write this story like the writers wrote the show. I cherry picked which pieces of canon were convenient and ignored the stupid parts. So a little rundown: Everything is pretty much the same up until 5.24ish. None of the stupid diary stuff happened. None of the gross sex tape stuff happened. None of the gross Empire roof rejection stuff happened. Basically, Serena wasn't gross and offensive, Dan wasn't completely weak, and Blair wasn't completely pathetic.

The characters are not mine, and neither are the mistakes. They are the result of evil!Dan hacking my computer and messing things up. Title comes from The Goo Goo Dolls "Slide"

Also, as per usual, all reviews, favorites, follows, etc, are greatly, greatly appreciated, but never expected.

* * *

The first time had been an accident.

When he woke up, he couldn't move his arm and his neck was sore. His couch was comfortable, but it wasn't meant for sleeping, and it definitely wasn't meant for sleeping in a sitting position while being used as a body pillow by a second person. He glanced down at the shape, still adorned with the sparkles and glitter of the preceding night's party, leaning against his shoulder, dark curls spilling messily over her face.

Her mouth was closed, silent, _a blessed change, _but he saw the slight tremble in the bottom lip, the way the eyebrows pulled together, a small worry line forming. He wondered what she was dreaming of. Schemes and betrayal? Heartbreak and disappointment? The naïve hope for a happy ending but the cynical belief that everything ends in misery? _Even in her sleep, she can't escape herself._

He knew he should wake her up. The annoyance she'd have for his "letting" her fall asleep on the couch of all places would be nothing to the fury he would have to endure if he let her sleep through the night. He could picture how the scene would play out, hands thrown in the air, insults being tossed left and right, a small angry figure of twirling rumpled fabric, pointed fingers, and mussed up hair.

Laughter threatened until he felt her stir slightly. He froze. Her breath had steadied, her face relaxed. He guessed she'd finally outrun her nightmare. Yeah, it was going to be dangerous to his own health if he didn't wake her up soon. He shifted his weight, laid an arm lightly on her waist, letting her head fall gently onto his chest and closed his eyes.

The scene the next morning had been what he'd expected.

"Just what I needed- to be seen leaving Dan Humphrey's place at six in the morning, wearing last night's clothes." She had her shoes raised above head, shaking them in exaggerated anger.

"I could let you borrow one of my shirts." He said as poured her a glass of juice.

"Because your itchy flannel giving me hives is exactly what would make the situation better." Her shoes were now on her feet and her hands on her waist.

"Do you want any eggs or toast?"

"I'm asking my friend and peer," a hand clutching at her chest dramatically, voice sarcastic, "for help, and you're asking my breakfast preferences?"

"No, you're running around my loft, shouting, and acting like a crazy person...And I'm asking your breakfast preferences. So, eggs?"

She glared a moment longer before climbing into the seat she had occupied in last night. "One egg, no toast. I'm guessing you wouldn't have any- oh," she paused as he handed her a small bowl of mixed fruit. "Well, I suppose this looks tolerable."

They ate slowly, interrupted by bursts of conversation.

_You know, when I was younger, I always rooted for her to pick Cary Grant._

_And now?_

_I'm heartbroken when she does._

They began cleaning up the mess, he swallowed before saying in as cool and easy a tone he could manage, "You know, if you ever umm...need to crash here you can you know."

"What?"

"There's a spare key in the hallway behind the pipe. So if you uh-"

"Like I would ever _need _to come here."

He rolled his eyes, his voice completely steady and slightly annoyed now, "I just wanted you to know that if you ever need a safe place to hide out for a few hours, you are welcome here. Now help me wash these dishes so we can be done and you can go home."

They washed in silence, and she grabbed her bag to go, "Thank you Humphrey," a pause, she took a deep breath, "Thank you Dan."

And she was gone.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox 

The next time she fell asleep at the loft, he hadn't been there.

It was pouring rain, but Lily hadn't wanted to hear excuses when she demanded his presence at family dinner. All this time, and his stepmother still frightened him a little. He stepped into the loft ready to strip down and take a warm shower. As soon as he was through the door, he knew she was there.

Several movies were scattered on the table, a bottle of wine had been uncorked and left untouched on his counter, but what really gave her away was the perfume lingering in the air. It was same one she had worn the night they fell asleep watching _The Philadelphia Story_, the same one she'd worn when they kissed, the same one she'd worn when she told him it had meant nothing and he had said the same (and had almost been able to convince himself of it).

He quietly walked over to his partially closed bedroom door and looked in. She was wearing a dark green dress, her knees pulled up to her chest, perfectly manicured hands placed gently under her cheek. She looked so small and lonely, a memory crept into his mind. A different green dress, a floor instead of a bed, but the same sense of pain and longing.

He turned to leave, but the movement caused her to wake. She lifted her head slightly and looked at him.

"Dan?"

"Yeah, it's me. I was at my dad's. I didn't know you were coming over or I would have-"

"No, I just..." she gently pushed herself up. Her dress had slipped, revealing a bit of her bare shoulder below it. He could still remember how it felt to have his hand on that shoulder, how it felt to have her mouth on his, "Louis," the name broke him out of his thoughts and brought him back to the present scene, where a princess-to-be was sitting in his bed and looking at him with darkest eyes he'd ever seen, "Louis is wanting to leave Friday. We're going to spend the summer in Monaco. I mean, I knew eventually I was going to have to leave, but..." she looked down at where her hands were clinging tightly to a worn, but soft bed sheet, decorated with shoes and soccer balls.

"But you thought you had more time, and you needed some place to rest while you catch your breath," He said matter-of-factly as he walked over to the desk chair and slipped into it.

She nodded slightly and the put on her biggest smile, "Well, I guess at least I'm that much closer to being a princess and all my dreams coming true. It's everything I always wanted!"

He studied her. Her eyes were too bright, her smile was broad, but it wasn't real. He didn't know how he even knew that or why he cared _It meant nothing, remember?_

"Is it still what you want?"

Her smile faltered, uncertainty lingering in her eyes. She shrugged one shoulder before replying, "Of course it is. What else could there be?"

Dan looked at her a moment longer before standing, "I need to go shower. I'm disgusting."

"No arguments here," No real malice detectable in her still groggy voice.

He tilted his head and sighed, "You break into my house, trash the place, steal my bed, and yet you still find it in yourself to insult me."

"I would say it was a talent, but you just make it so easy, I don't have to try. Besides, I was invited, thank you very much." She flicked her hair over her shoulder revealing a small, fading scratch marring her cheek.

"Yeah, I guess you were." He looked away, afraid of what his face might or might not reveal. After another beat, he began walking towards the door, "If you're here and awake when I get back, we can order pizza and you can create a list of movies I need to watch this summer."

She just smiled, smaller this time, dimmer, softer, real.

When he came back into the room, feeling relaxed, calmed, ready to begin arguing with her over how he would spend his free time. He didn't get a word out. She had fallen back asleep. Her face was pale, but calm. Her chest rising and falling in a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm. He towards the bed and laid his favorite soft blanket over her, then went back to his desk. He stared blankly at his computer screen for a few minutes, trying to will the story to finish itself.

He found himself looking over at the sleeping girl frequently. Eventually, he gave up the pretense of work and walked over to sit near the bed. He stretched his legs out, and made himself comfortable. He watched her sleep and new stories filled his thoughts- princesses in distant towers and the paupers wanting to rescue them. Maybe he hadn't been so effective at convincing himself their kiss meant nothing.

When he woke up a few hours later, she was gone.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox 

The last time she fell asleep in his loft was a Monday.

They had gone out for dinner and a movie, and ad come back to the loft for drinks, movies, and if Rufus was gone, maybe more. Things had changed recently. Their conversations were colder, distant. The arguments had stopped and the fake smiles had returned. He knew what was happening, had always known it would, so he was trying the make most of what he knew was likely to be one of the last times he got to be this close to her.

They were laying next to each other, legs intertwined, watching _The Philadelphia Story_for the twentieth time. It was one of the few movies they could always agree on and watch with little disagreement over the characters and story. His arm was wrapped around her waist and his fingers drew lazy circles over the patch of exposed thigh. Her head rested against his shoulder.

The movie reached it's climax, Tracy telling George she doesn't want to marry him. The first time they watched this they had argued whether George was well-meaning idiot or a villain in idiot's clothing. He looked down at her and frowned when he noticed her biting her bottom lip. She was staring at the screen, watching Tracy also reject Connor, explaining that they just wouldn't be good together.

"You know, the first time I saw this movie, and I immediately went and wrote a new ending where Tracy accepted Connor." He said absentmindedly, just wanting to break the uncomfortable silence that filled the room.

"Why would you do that?" Her voice was sharp, annoyed.

He pulled back slightly, feeling a little embarrassed. "I don't know," he shrugged awkwardly and ran a hair through his hair, "I just thought Connor and Tracy fit better. They made more sense to me, and I thought their dynamic was a lot easier, natural. Also, I was never able to get over how Dexter treated her at the beginning." He shrugged again, "I don't know. "

She was sitting up now, the blanket pulled around her waist, ensuring none of their skin touched. "Love isn't supposed to make sense and it's not supposed to be easy. If it's simple, than it probably isn't worth that much. She had to work for Dexter, just stepping away from all that she had put in? What was she supposed to do, just walk away, admit defeat, that she wasted years of her life? For what? Something easy?"

"Dexter was kind of terrible to her though. Better to have wasted time and try give something new a chance, than risk being hurt again."

"They both would hurt her, at least she knew how Dexter worked, how he would hurt her."

"Connor wouldn't hurt her though. He loved her. You don't hurt people you love."

"He was just deluding himself into thinking he loved her. As soon as someone shinier, blonder, came along, he'd drop her in an instant. Besides, love is supposed to hurt. It's supposed to be all-consuming, painful...epic. If it doesn't hurt, then how do we know that it's worth anything?"

He looked at her for a long second. Her voice was cold, detached, the same voice she used to order her minions around with. A voice she hadn't used with him in a long time. She wasn't looking at him. She had found something interesting on his wall to study.

"I'm going to get a drink. Want anything?"

She just shook her head, still not making eye contact.

"Ok." He started to leave, but paused at the doorway and turned to look at her. "She should have at least taken a chance with Stewart." He saw her drop her gaze down to her hands, but she remained silent.

When he returned, she apologized for snapping at him, blaming her mother's unexpected return. They talked a few minutes about how hot it had gotten, what finals they had left, and how Nate got his hair so shiny . It was all very superficial, just something to kill time until they decided it was acceptably late enough to go to sleep. Unexpectedly, Blair moved into him, draped an arm across his chest, and pulled herself as close as possible. He put one arm under her shoulder, holding her tight, and placed a kiss in her hair. He took a deep breathing, taking in her smell, her essence. He knew, deep down, they had reached the end, and he wanted to make sure he remembered everything about this moment.

At some point in the night, he was woken but her shifting body weight. He opened his eyes slightly, not letting her know he was awake. She had obviously not wanted him to be. The moonlight was beaming through his windows, casting an ethereal glow over her. She pulled the brightly colored dress back on. For just a moment, he thought it looked like she was crying. He decided later that it had been a trick of the light.

She grabbed her bag, and looked over towards him for a moment before she was gone.

oxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxox 

He wasn't surprised when he saw the Gossip Girl blast. He had been waiting for it since their last conversation. Expectation didn't make him less angry though, less frustrated, less irritated, and it definitely didn't make it hurt less. He hung his head for a moment, staring down at the cheap laminate of the airport bar, before he ordered a double of the cheapest single malt they stocked and tossed his phone in a nearby trashcan.

Two drinks later and he was hit by a familiar scent. He turned so fast, desperate to see her smile and perpetually annoyed eyes, that he almost fell out of his seat. When he shook it off, all that was there was an amused group thirty something women looking at him like the fool he was. He stood up, grabbed his duffle bag, and headed towards the gate.

He wanted to sleep during the plane ride, but the large man next to him with bad breath and no sense of personal space had other ideas, so he ordered a screwdriver and pulled out the crossword book he had tucked in his bag at the last moment. He turned to a random page only to see his small, cramped hand writing butting up against her large, perfectly measured letters.

There was a day in April where a thunderstorm had temporarily knocked the power out at the loft. She had complained about Brooklyn and it's inferior power structure and he had told she was more than welcome to leave whenever she wanted. One look out at the water drenched sidewalks and the bright lightning flashing regularly, and she was snatching one of his crossword puzzles off the table and began filling the empty blocks on a puzzle he hadn't finished. They had fallen asleep in the floor that night, tangled up in blankets and each other.

He hailed the flight attendant and asked for a second drink, a set of headphones, and wanted to ask them to dispose of the offending book, but instead shoved it back down into his pack. He put on the headphones and rolled his eyes as the opening titles for "Twilight" appeared on screen.

He walked tiredly towards his hotel room. If the flight hadn't been enough, the eight hour marathon of glittering vampires and melodramatic werewolves had been. Somewhere over the Atlantic, he had considered trying to sabotage the video playback system on the plane, but then he realized he would stuck with Mr. OnionMouth (creative juices had been running low), and a book that served as a reminder of his current life events. He put the headset back on and watched the pretty vampires' baseball game be interrupted by the mean vampires...yeah, this was definitely rock bottom.

He tossed his bag on the closest chair as soon as he walked in. He ignored the scent attacking his nose. This had to stop. He was starting to worry about himself. A warm shower and a beer or five should help. He stopped when he saw the small figure, curled into a ball on top of the cream duvet. Dark hair fanned out on the pillows, ruby lips were pulled tight in a small little frown, and a small, pale hand held onto a cell phone.

He stood for a moment longer, unable to process what he was seeing. Finally he mustered up the energy to let out a small "Blair?"

Her eyes flew open and she sat up. "Took you long enough." She wiped at her eyes and started trying flatten her hair/

"Umm...what are you doing here?" He still wasn't positive this was real and not a figment of his weary mind.

"Good to see you too, Humphrey. Yuck, you smell like cheap liquor. Haven't I taught you anything?" She slid off the bed and made her way over to him.

"I..the blast...the Empire...Chuck," words kept spilling out of his mouth, he knew he should just shut up, but that wasn't one of his strong suits.

"It was Gossip Girl being Gossip Girl. I tried calling you, but you didn't answer." She waved her phone at him, clearly enjoying seeing him flustered.

"Yeah, I um... I threw it away." A nervous hand running through his already messy hair.

"Who knew you had such a flair for the dramatic?" She smiled now, seeming almost proud.

"So... you came to Rome for me?" His voice lower now, nervous.

"Well, you and the museums, and the shopping."

"You're going to spend the summer with me?" Warmth began spreading through him.

She took a little breath, her eyes grew serious, and his worry crept back in. "I'm going to spend two weeks with you. Then I'm going to spend the rest of the summer in LA with Serena, drinking gin and going through the boxes of things CeCe left to her. I've kind of neglected her over the last few months, and she needs this...our friendship needs this."

Sensing she had more to say, he just nodded and remained silent.

Blair paused for a moment, and looked up at him, "I want you to be in my life, but you can't be the only thing in it. I've done that before, too many times, and..." She took a deeper breath, and began speaking in a smaller, more fragile voice. "If I do it again, it might destroy me, and it will definitely destroy us. And I don't want that to happen."

When she spoke again, it was louder and edged with sarcasm and derision, "So, you get two weeks of my travel expertise, flawless taste in restaurants, and my much, much needed fashion advice. Seriously, if you expect to be seen with me in public, we're going shopping tomorrow."

He sighed, feigning exasperation, "I guess I can agree to those conditions." He added an eyeroll for good measure.

"Hey, I just flew COACH for you, so-" She poked at his chest.

He grabbed her hand and held it between his. "Why did you come here? Why did you choose me?"

"It wasn't a choice. Not really. I was ready to take a chance on Jimmy Stewart. I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize that. " Her smile was brighter now, and it was real and warm and full of affection.

He kissed her, deeply, so many emotions running through him. She pulled back and looked into his eyes. "I love you. You know that right?"

"That's good, want something to eat?" He said, dropping her hand and turning to walk off.

She smacked his arm, "You're never going to let me forget that are you?"

"Nope." He laughed, moving back to her, resting a hand on her bare shoulder.

She crossed her arms and pouted for a moment before raising her mouth back to his.

They fell asleep on top of the blankets, still in their clothes, both too exhausted from their trips and tribulations to bother with pajamas. He woke up at one point and looked over at her. Her eyes were closed tightly, dark lashes fanning across pale skin, her lips, now devoid of any artificial color, were relaxed. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her closer.

She was here.


End file.
